The Return of Hermione Granger
by littlemisscass
Summary: Two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger sent two letters by owl. After that, she wasn't seen for another five years. But, when she's asked to a party by the Potters and told she will be forcibly dragged back for the party, Hermione decides to return on her own terms. It's time to return to England, but what made Granger leave, anyway?
1. By Owl

**[A/N: ****This story is going to be regularly updated - at least once a week for now - and I intend to make the chapters a few thousand words each (not including this one, which will be shorter). My track record isn't fantastic when it comes to updating, but that was when I was at school and uni, but now I'm on holidays, I have a lot of spare time. This is going to be a Dramione fic, obviously, but Draco won't be introduced until the second or third chapter. This chapter is more a precursor to the actual fic, which will include more dialogue and events. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you will review and follow!]**

* * *

Chapter 1: 

By Owl

* * *

Two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger sent two letters by owl.

One was directed to the Burrow, addressed to Harry, Ron and Ginny, and the other to Hogwarts, and Minerva McGonagall. She picked up her travelling bag, looked around her emptied childhood home, and disapparated.

She wasn't seen for another five years.

* * *

For all intents and purposes, and by the majority of the wizarding population, Hermione Granger was presumed dead or missing. Six people knew that she wasn't: the Potters, Harry and Ginny; the still-perplexed Ronald Weasley; Headmistress McGonagall, touched to have been informed; and Robert and Jacqui Granger, who had remained in Australia and set up a dental practice.

After the first year, few articles were published discussing her whereabouts, and those usually appeared on her birthday and the day of her disappearance. While Rita Skeeter hypothesised that Death Eaters had captured, tortured and murdered the young woman, other journalists suggested that she was more likely to have run away from the wizarding world to live a relatively normal life. Hermione Granger was not one to lavish in the attention of society, it just wasn't her style.

Luna Lovegood, the first reporter to suggest such a plan, was in fact correct. Astute as always, knowing that Hermione wouldn't want to be followed, she had suggested that the Gryffindor would probably venture to France or Italy, centres for history, rather than somewhere as humdrum as England or Ireland. Hermione Granger was more likely to be hiding in a library in some interesting part of the muggle world, content to read, do research and spend time with family and friends, than facing notoriety as a witch.

That was exactly what Hermione had decided to do.

* * *

Life was simple in Brisbane. Her parents were happy with their house and jobs, meeting neighbours and enjoying the usually mild weather. Hermione was able to work as a librarian in the State Library, while doing healing research at home in her free time. She'd managed to publish several journal articles to the Healing Wizard, an up-and-coming Australian wizarding magazine, under a pseudonym, receiving some acclaim. She wasn't faced with the flashing lightbulbs and questioning looks as she walked around at the shops, no misrepresentation as Harry's girlfriend or being treated as inferior by the prejudiced purebloods.

Hermione was content.

* * *

Ginny had had enough.

It had been five years since she'd seen her best friend. She and Harry were about to have their fourth wedding anniversary (a wedding that Hermione hadn't even attended) and they were having a party. As it so happened, their anniversary fell on New Year's Day, and a large picnic was planned for that afternoon.

Hermione was going to come to this party and Ginny Potter would not take no for an answer.

* * *

Though she was treated to occasional news of wizarding Britain, little European news was published in Australian wizarding newspapers and Hermione was rather glad that she didn't have another constant reminder of her other life. But she did have a constant reminder. One that slept in the room next to hers, one that screamed 'Mummy!' across the library after school, despite every effort to cure him of the habit. One whose appearance was forever a reminder of the events that had given her reason to leave her home and her friends.

Alexander Granger was her treasure and Hermione loved him more than anything. But she was glad that they were free from the stigma she might have received in London. No one in Brisbane would wonder at the father of her child. No one would question whether her fake-husband had truly died in a car accident. They had been able to start anew. Her family was safe and happy in Australia.

* * *

The invitation arrived on the day after Christmas. Hermione and her mother returned from the Boxing Day Sales exhausted, carrying dozens of bags. Alec danced around the pair as they entered the house, dropping bags in their path, and sank into armchairs.

"Mummy! Mummy! You got an owl!"

Alec was enamoured with the animals and his favourite stories all featured an owl or two. But visiting their home was an entirely new story and, despite growing up with owls delivering things every once in a while, Alec was always excited when the mail arrived by owl.

Hermione went to the open window, where a white owl perched. It looked remarkably like Hedwig, she thought absentmindedly as she opened the seal on the letter.

_Dear Hermione...party...n__ot taking no for an answer...hope you had a lovely Christmas...__miss you..._love Ginny.

She sighed.

Oh dear.

It was finally happening.

Although her friends had been supportive of her leaving the country to move in with her parents in Australia, they had not fully understood. Hermione hadn't told them everything. They didn't know she was a mother, they hadn't even known she was seeing someone during the war. But now that they were actively inviting her to things, she knew that if she ignored them, they would eventually travel to Brisbane and drag her back kicking and screaming.

She missed her friends, the world into which she had acclimated so well. She missed Hogwarts and the Weasleys and being around magic all the time. She missed the cold British winters, the greenness that was everywhere (Australia seemed to be distinctly brown, rather than green) and the more appropriate behaviour that could be found outside the former colony.

Hermione had wanted to go home from the moment she had disapparated five years previously, but she had stayed strong and she knew her family was better for it. But time had passed, and it was likely that no one would question her son's backstory. It wasn't a question, really. She wanted to go back, even if it might be slightly more difficult there. Alec would be able to go to Hogwarts. She would be able to take him to Diagon Alley to get his books for school, to get his first wand.

Hermione grinned.

_It was time to return to England._


	2. Realising Things

Chapter 2:

Realising Things

* * *

Strangely enough, when faced with the prospect of seeing her friends and revealing her secrets, Hermione wasn't worried. She usually thought everything through, made the occasional pro-con list and read as much as she could on the subject. But returning felt right. Five years previously, she'd made the lists and done the research, and, while all signs pointed to staying, she'd elected to leave.

Now, it was time to return.

Jacqui Granger poked her head in the door of her daughter's room. Her hair was beginning to grey at the roots, but its chocolate-y colour was reminiscent of Hermione's. "Darling, are you sure you don't want us to post you your things? I was just at the post office and they said that they can be shipped over and arrive within the next few weeks."

"It's fine, Mum," Hermione said, shaking her head with a smile before indicating the small handbag into which she was emptying her bookshelf.

"Magic!" The older woman chuckled, walking back down the hallway. It had been years, but magic was still a novelty in the Granger home._  
_

* * *

Mother and son floo'd to the Burrow on New Year's Morning with their trunks firmly secured in Hermione's handbag, extended to fit their belongings from Australia. The kitchen was (surprisingly) empty and Hermione made Alec some toast, seating him at the table, before searching for the Weasleys.

George was sprawled across the sofa, asleep and drooling, while his wife Angelina was curled up in a nearby armchair in a slightly more dignified manner. Both were looking slightly older than Hermione remembered, but she'd been able to see the occasional photo and piece of news in the past five years, so they didn't look too different. Empty bottles of Firewhiskey littered the table and floor. _What an evening the Weasleys must have had._ Bill and Fleur's door was shut and Hermione didn't especially want to see anything she oughtn't by going inside. Charlie's door was open, but the room was empty, bed unmade, clothes strewn across the room. She didn't want to know the details of why a red bra was tangled in the ceiling fan.

A commotion on the stairs above caused Hermione to look up.

"I'm a grown man, Mum! I'm allowed to share the bathroom with my girlfriend if I so wish," Charlie protested to his glaring mother. Molly pointed her finger at him.

"Both of you will be downstairs within the next ten minutes and if I ever catch you doing... _that_ in my bathroom again_, _you will not be returning to this house. I want everyone downstairs befor-"

Molly paused. As she gestured downstairs, she'd turned and caught sight of Hermione a dozen steps below, failing to stifle her laughter.

"Hermione!" She pulled Hermione into a tight hug. _Things never change_, Hermione grinned, returning the embrace. "How are you? How was your trip back? Where have you been? I'm sure it was wonderful..."

"Uh..."

"Come to the kitchen, I'll make a late breakfast."

Charlie scuttled back into the bathroom, glad to escape. The sound of rushing of water and a high-pitched giggle carried through the closing door. _  
_

Molly and Hermione made their way downstairs, making small talk. Ron was coming after lunch, as he had had to work the night before. The arrival of the Potters, including the newest Potter, James, was imminent, and Arthur was tinkering outside in his shed. The family was all going to be here, then. "Along with some new friends," Molly added.

_It was nice to be home._

* * *

What Hermione had failed to mention to Molly was that she had a companion. Upon their arrival in the kitchen, Alec looked up questioningly from _Quidditch Through The Ages_, probably one of the many copies belonging to the Weasleys. Molly turned to Hermione with a similar look, "Now, who is this?"_  
_

"Mummy?"

"Mummy?!" Ginny gasped, standing in the open door. Harry stood behind her, half-blocked by the one-year-old in his arms, but gaping.

Alec frowned and turned back to his book. Hermione placed her hands on his shoulders, "This is my son Alec."

"You... your... you... _son_?"

"Welcome to the Burrow, Alec," Molly smiled, taking his empty plate and putting it in the sink. "Do you want to have a look around? I can show you if you would like."

Alec smiled shyly in return. The boy looked in askance at his mother, who nodded, and he took Molly's proffered hand. They wandered off and the kitchen was silent, the pair's chattering fading into the distance.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ginny shot Harry a look and he amended, "...tell _us_?"

"It was straight after the war, people would think it was you or Ron. I didn't want that sort of pressure to be put on any of us, least of all Alec. I wanted him to have a nice, normal childhood."

Ginny nodded understandingly. She and Harry had waited a few years for that very reason. Their roles in the war would never be forgotten, but the notoriety had dulled, much as Hermione believed it would. "We're glad you're back."

"So am I. I want to hear all about your lives. Your wedding, James, everything!" Hermione sank into Alec's chair.

Harry went into the other room and woke George and Angelina, placing his son in the care of at least one hungover person. _It was a good way to teach them not to drink so much_, Hermione chuckled to herself. Ginny sat down beside Hermione and grinned, "So... where should I begin?"

* * *

After discussing the important events of their lives for more than an hour, one topic had still not been broached by Ginny or Harry. Hermione had similarly tried to avoid the topic.

"Hermione," Harry began hesitantly. "Where's Alec's father?"

"_Who's_ Alec's father?" Ginny added more eagerly than her husband.

Hermione grimaced. She knew the question would come up eventually, and she was surprised that it had taken her friends this long to ask, but Hermione wasn't exactly sure how she would respond. There was the blanket answer she'd had for the five years in Australia: her (non-existent) husband, Thomas Smith, had died in a car accident, she'd gone back to her maiden name and was raising Alec with her parents' help. There was the answer she'd prepared to tell the general wizarding world: she'd secretly married the father during the war and, upon his death, decided to protect his son and his identity by moving to Australia. But Harry and Ginny, and Ron, when he arrived, deserved an element of the truth, if not the whole truth.

"Before I left, I was dating someone. We broke up a few days after the Battle of Hogwarts and it wasn't exactly amicable. When I found out I was pregnant a week after that, I didn't want to have to face him all the time. I'd had an inclination that I was pregnant in the last days of our relationship but I wasn't sure and I didn't tell him. Back then, I thought about what I would want for my child. Would I want my child to have a childhood, a life of notoriety? Or would I give them the life they deserve? One of normalcy. Those thoughts already in my head, when I found out, I knew what I wanted to do. That day, I spoke to my parents and told them I was coming to visit. I sent you the letters and left."

Ginny, who had been gasping intermittently throughout Hermione's speech and leaning further and further forward, fell back against her chair. Harry reached across the table and grasped Hermione's hand.

"Thank you for telling us."

Hermione's lips twisted into a ghost of a smile, her eyes shining slightly with unspent tears.

At least they didn't press her on the identity of Alec's father. Hermione had no idea what she would have said.

* * *

The party passed in a more upbeat tone.

People asked questions, some of which Hermione answered, but they soon moved onto genuine conversation. It wasn't difficult for her to get back into the groove, although the occasional event or relationship mentioned was surprising to her.

"R-Ron... and and and Pansy?"

"They've been together a few months. You'd think they'd tear each other's throat out, but they're actually really cute," Ginny laughed.

"Oi! A man does not appreciate being called cute!" Harry poked his wife in the side.

"Ron and Pansy, though," Ginny beseeched him.

He laughed, "They are pretty..." Ginny began to grin, "...well suited."

Ginny sighed and her husband wrapped an arm around her waist, "Why don't we go see where the cake is?"

"Cake?" Ginny perked up, dragging Harry toward the kitchen.

Hermione chuckled, sipping at her white wine. Alec was playing with the other magical children and his mother couldn't keep a smile off her face. This was right. It was what was supposed to happen. He would be so happy here. The children were crowded around a crouching man, hidden by their clustered bodies, and even Hermione, across the yard, could clearly hear, "Let _me_ on the broomstick!" "No, let_ me_ on!" Alec stood near the outside. Although she'd educated him on the general aspects of the wizarding world, and had demonstrated more than a few spells, Hermione was not a good flyer. Alec had never ridden on a broom, nor had he seen a magical one. Despite not being able to see the man, she could see the broom he was holding up. It was a children's one, and it was extremely safe... she'd researched it a while ago, in case Alec ever asked to try. If Alec wasn't chosen, she ought to ask Harry if he'd take her son up one day soon.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a yell, "Mummy! Mummy! I'm going to fly on a broom!"

Alec had run halfway across the yard, made his pronouncement, and was already sprinting back, a huge grin on his face. _Her little boy was growing up_, Hermione thought, both happy and miserable at the thought.

The man holding the broom stood and turned to face Alec, who was still a good distance away. Instead, his eyes met Hermione's and widened perceptibly. She gasped in recognition. He was tall, his build slightly thicker than when she last saw him. His hair was the same pale shade of blond, although his skin was slightly more tanned than his ashen pallor from their school days. His lips weren't twisted into his former smirk, but an easy smile, which fell when their eyes met. He looked older, and more attractive, than the last time she'd seen him. _The past five years have treated him well_, Hermione thought, an unwelcome feeling settling in her stomach. It was then that she realised something else.

_Draco Malfoy was about to give her son a flying lesson._


	3. Never

Chapter 3:

Never

Hermione was at war with herself. She was already rising, moving toward Draco and Alec, ready to stop whatever was about to take place. But she was also hesitant. Alec would likely treasure his first ride on a broom if she didn't intervene and drag him away. He might actually excel at the one thing his mother was incapable of doing. Similarly, facing Draco Malfoy was not something she'd thought she would have to do that day and she didn't exactly want to talk to him.

So, fighting her need to rise up and confront the man, she allowed Draco Malfoy to gently lift Alec onto the children's broom and teach the boy how to fly.

* * *

Although he'd only risen a few feet off the ground during actual flight, when Alec fell off the broom in the process of dismount, he started crying.

Hermione had never overtly spoilt her son, but whenever he injured himself, she automatically ran to him, wanting to wrap him in her arms and never let him go. She knew that soon Alec wouldn't want her to do so, but at the moment he wasn't adverse to her mothering and Hermione revelled in it. He was, after all, her little baby.

"It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright. Just a little graze on your hands," Hermione lifted the little hands to show him. "We'll go inside and put on a sticking plaster."

Although she was able to perform magic to heal Alec's cuts, she didn't like doing it. There were probably no bad effects to the practice, but this was one thing Hermione liked doing the muggle way. It taught him resilience and that not everything could be fixed by magic. She stood and brushed off her grassy jeans before grasping Alec's hand.

"Hermione," a voice behind her said. "It's been a while."

In her initial panic, then reassurance of Alec, Hermione had, oddly enough, forgotten about Draco Malfoy. She turned to face him. He looked older, but he was the same Dra-Malfoy that she'd known years ago.

"Er... it has," Hermione mumbled. "How've you been?"

"Good. Work keeps me busy," he replied, his eyes searching hers. "And you?"

"Mmm, yes, busy. Just moved back from Australia."

"I heard. Your son was regaling tales of it to me earlier, " Malfoy said with a smile to the boy who still clutched her hand as if it was a lifeboat.

Hermione shot Alec an indecipherable look, "Has he? That's nice."

"Why'd you move?"

"Change of scenery, you know," she shrugged, her heart palpitating in her chest.

"Where's your husband?"

"My..."

"Alec's father?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere."

"You'll have to introduce me."

She hesitated before responding, "I'm quite sure you've already met."

"Have we?" Draco's jaw clenched.

"Yes."

He didn't move, didn't say a word.

"Sorry, but we have to go. I need to get Alec a sticking plaster," Hermione babbled, already walking away.

Draco's head snapped in her direction. His tone was quiet, "Alec?"

She tossed her words over her shoulder, not even turning around, "Bye!"

* * *

_Five Years and Seven Months Ago_

_"If I ever have a child, I'm doing away with the weird naming in my family. Draco obviously being the exception."_

_He stood in Potter's house at Grimmauld Place, looking at the Black family tapestry. In the past year, Draco Malfoy had broken away from his family, his old practices, his old beliefs, and joined the Order. He'd realised that the ways of his and other families weren't only wrong in some places, but antiquated. Like the naming. He didn't want his children made fun of because they were named Walburga or Cygnus, no matter how historical or astrological it was. "What about you?"_

_Hermione stepped back from where she was studying the burnt parts of the tapestry, "What about me?"_

_"What would you name our children?"_

_"_Our_ children? Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?"_

_Draco's face was serious, "Not too far. I'd like to get married someday in the near future."_

_Hermione's eyes flicked from the eaten edges of the tapestry to Draco's eyes. "Really?"_

_"Really."_

_Hermione's unspoken "To_ _me?" reverberated into an awkward silence._

_"I've been thinking that, once the war comes to an end, I might marry my girlfriend...if she'll have me." He pressed a kiss to Hermione's forehead and she grinned. Draco laughed, "Seriously, though, what would you name them?"_

_She hesitated, thinking, "Something strong. I'd want my child to have a strong name."_

_"I agree. I like Alexander, for a boy. That's strong, and not too odd," he offered. "I don't know about a girl. Definitely not Pansy or Millicent, though."_

_Hermione laughed, "No, neither of those. You wouldn't like to name your daughter after your mother?"_

_"No. Not her first name. I love my mother, but I don't want to saddle a child with the name Narcissa. Or Narcissus."_

_"Iris."_

_"What?"_

_"I like the name Iris."_

_"Alexander and Iris Malfoy, then."_

_Hermione offered him a small smile, "I guess."_

_Draco quickly checked the hall, before taking her hand and pulling her out of the room and into his own, two doors down, "They'll have my Quidditch skills and your brains."_

_He pressed Hermione against the door, effectively shutting it. His lips ghosted across hers, dropping to her neck._

_She struggled to suppress a moan, "They'll have your hair and my eyes."_

_"They'll be in Gryffindor," Draco added, his breath now against her lips. "Or Ravenclaw."_

_"They'll be perfect," Hermione whispered, pulling her boyfriend against her._

_He lowered his lips to hers, hesitating mere inches away, "Alexander and Iris Malfoy, our children."_

_Their lips met._

* * *

"What's got your boxers in a bunch?"

Ron sank into the lawn chair beside Draco's and handed him a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Nothing, nothing at all," he mumbled, remembering that night, years ago. It was a coincidence. That's all it was.

Ron sat silently beside his friend, leaving him to woolgather, and gazed around the yard. Everyone was there. Well, almost everyone, Ron thought sadly. Not everyone had survived the war, and not everyone was in the country.

As if sensing Weasley's thoughts, Draco offered a weak explanation, "Granger has a kid."

"Hermione's here?" Ron jumped up, looking around excitedly.

"Inside, with her son."

Ron paused, "Her son?"

"Apparently."

"Who's the father?"

"No idea, but I know him, according to Granger," Draco replied. His expression morphed into one of horror. "It's not you or Potter, is it?"

Ron gaped, "No! Hermione and I weren't ever together. Besides, I wouldn't be this surprised if the kid was mine, would I? And Harry would never cheat on Ginny."

"I suppose not," Draco conceded. "Go and see her. I can see you're itching to go."

Ron smiled, thanking his mate, and walked in the direction of the house.

* * *

Hermione's reunion with Ron was less shocking than hers with Harry and Ginny. She was in the kitchen talking with Molly, Ginny and Alec, although she and her son were mostly just watching Ginny beg Molly to bring out the cake. Harry had long given up on his wife and had joined George outside.

"Please, Mum. If we let everyone have cake now, then I won't have to steal a piece before it's handed out."

"You are a grown woman!" Molly exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

"So? I can still want cake!"

Alec giggled as Hermione subtly scooped some icing onto a spoon and passed it to her son.

"What are you two laughing about?" Mother and daughter demanded with the same glare. Alec quickly hid the spoon.

Hermione frowned, "Laughing? I didn't hear any laughing…"

Just as Ginny opened her mouth to argue, the door leading outside burst open and Ron appeared, grinning wildly.

"'MIONE!"

Hermione laughed as she was picked up from the kitchen counter where she sat with Alec, spun around, and deposited on the floor.

"Hello, Ron!"

He smiled, slightly less excitedly this time, and enveloped her in another hug.

"You are going to have to let go of me eventually, otherwise Pansy might get jealous," Hermione joked, plopping herself back on the bench-top. Alec sighed, licking icing off the cooking spoon.

Ron turned to the little, brown-haired boy, "I've heard about you from one of my friends. I'm Ron, and you must be Alec!"

Alec nodded shyly, "Hi."

Ron patted him awkwardly on the head and stepped back, "I'd better go find Pansy. Don't want to leave her alone with Malfoy… who knows who'd survive _that_."

Hermione hadn't forgotten her encounter with Draco Malfoy, but she'd been trying as best she could.

She didn't want to have to deal with him, considering their past. The last time she'd seen him, Hermione had promised herself "_never again_". Never again would she let him get to her, never again would she let a man have such an effect on her. Never again would she listen to someone when they promised that the gossip wasn't true. Never again would she let her heart get broken by the person she loved and trusted most in the world.

* * *

_The Day After The Battle of Hogwarts_

"_I love you, you know that, right?"_

_They lay on the couch at Hermione's parents' house together, not watching the movie that played on the television._

_Hermione turned her head to face him and smiled, "Of course. I love you, too."_

___"I had lunch with Mother today," _Draco offered her a weak smile. "She informed me that she spoke to the Greengrasses this morning. She believes Astoria is still willing to marry me. They're already planning a wedding later in the year."

_Hermione sat up sharply._

"_You're marrying Astoria?" She snapped._

_Draco held up his hands beseechingly, "No! No! Mother wants me to. I'm not going to! No! I'm going to marry you, remember."_

"_No, Draco. You just told me that Astoria is still willing to marry you. Why would she _still _be_ willing_ if she weren't offered marriage at some point?"_

_He grimaced, eyes hardening, "It was a long time ago. Before the war, before us. It's not happening. I won't let it happen."_

"_So you are engaged. What was _this_, then? Just some fun? Sowing some seeds before marriage? Thanks, Draco, thanks a lot."_

"_No!" He cried, "I'm telling you that I love you and I am going to marry _you. _I never loved Astoria, it was just convenient. I'm going to visit her family tomorrow, and we'll announce _our_ engagement instead."_

"_Our engagement? We're not engaged," Hermione said, tears running down her cheeks. "You never asked me."_

"_Hermione, will-"_

_Hermione groaned,_ "_Merlin, Draco, you don't get it. Just... just... floo me tomorrow afternoon, once you're done with the Greengrasses. If I don't talk to you by 5, I'll assume you're going through with it."_

"_Hermione, please," Draco choked out._

"_I hope I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going upstairs. You know your way out."_

_It took several minutes for Draco to pull himself together and leave. In the morning, he would tell the Greengrasses exactly where they could shove the marriage. He wasn't marrying Astoria. He would marry Hermione, whether it was this year or in ten. He wasn't going to lose her. Never._


	4. Again

**[A/N: More of an FYI: the timeline of events during the war is the same as in the books, so the Battle of Hogwarts took place in May 1998. Another FYI: marriages for wizards seem to take place quite early in life (see Lily and James, and probably Arthur and Molly, if you consider how old Bill is), so an arranged marriage at Draco's age (17, almost 18) wouldn't be too out of place. **

**Thanks for the phenomenal response to the first 3 chapters, keep all the reviews coming! I've managed to write three chapters in three days including this one, which is unprecedented, but I'm really enjoying writing this story. I'm going to see Catching Fire with one of my best friends today, so I won't be able to write finish off chapter 5, but expect it very soon. Hope you enjoy!]**

* * *

Chapter 4:

Again

It was well past Alec's bedtime by the time mother and son reached the Granger home. It was exactly how Hermione remembered it. A slim, detached house with two floors and an attic, with pale blue curtains in the windows. The formerly tame garden was unruly and almost sinister looking in the darkness, but it was home and Hermione felt safe. Unlocking the door with difficulty, as a heavy Alec was perched on one hip, snuggling into her shoulder, she almost tripped over the small mound of letters inside the door.

Although she'd enlisted her muggle neighbours to collect any remaining letters from the letterbox and forward them, Hermione had forgotten that she might receive mail by owl. There looked to be, in the dimly lit hall, at least a hundred small letters. Walking into the house and flipping on lights, the formerly dark home grew more and more familiar as the light bulbs warmed, glowing brighter.

Gingerly placing Alec on the bed in her childhood room, across from the living room, Hermione set out to investigate how the house had fared in five years. She'd placed up wards so no unwelcome visitors would rob the place, but weather was a whole other issue. The house wasn't too old, but water damage and resulting mould would be an annoyance with which Hermione did not want to deal.

The house was silent but for Alec's muffled sleeping noises (the occasional groan and sigh) as Hermione climbed the stairs. After the war, and before she left for Australia, she had slept in the spare room on the first floor. It was more practical, after all, as it had a queen-sized bed, and Dr—Malfoy had spent almost every night with her there until… until a week before she left.

Her parents' room looked the same, empty dresser with one draw stuck slightly open, as it had been for the last fifteen years. On the white wrought-iron bed lay a dusty mattress. The small window was shrouded in heavy lace curtains. The room looked wholly impersonal, just like it ought if it hadn't been occupied in five years.

Whereas the door to her parents' room had been shut, the spare room's door was ajar. Taking out her wand, although doubting that the room would have an occupant, Hermione pushed it open completely, flipped on the light, and gasped.

It was an absolute mess. The cheap rocking chair that Draco had bought Hermione to read in resembled more a pile of firewood than something on which to sit. A vase, once containing flowers, had been smashed against the wall; there was a faint water stain on the off-white wall, and dead flowers and pieces of ceramic littered the grey carpet. What broke her heart most was the one flower that did not lie in tatters on the floor. Although it was dead and brown, Hermione knew exactly what colour the rose had once been. A single white rose had been placed on the bed.

As memories resurfaced, Hermione sank to the ground just inside the door and sobbed.

* * *

After crying for a good half hour, Hermione had cleaned up the mess with her wand, switched out the light and climbed into bed, drifting into a deep sleep.

In the morning, Hermione felt refreshed. She felt better. That was all in the past. First things first, she was going to get a new job. Then, Hermione was going to earn enough money that she could buy a house for Alec and herself. They would go to the Burrow on Sundays for lunch, and have holidays in Australia with the Grangers. Alec would soon go to primary school, and eventually on to Hogwarts.

Shutting the door to the spare room and, effectively, her memories of it, Hermione made her way downstairs. Trying to locate the small fridge in her handbag was difficult, as things had shifted slightly in the last day. The extension charm was wearing off and the bag was slightly more crowded that it had been the morning before. Finally locating the fridge next to her collection of muggle novels, she rummaged carefully, pulling out a carton of eggs, some milk, butter, bread, and bacon. It took a little longer to locate knives, forks, plates and a fry-pan, but, thirty minutes later, Alec emerged from his room, sniffing the air.

"What's for breakfast?" He asked, adding, hopefully, "Bacon?"

Hermione laughed, setting two full plates on the table, "_And_ eggs."

The pair ate in relative silence, the only noises coming from outside and the clinking of their knives and forks on the china plates.

* * *

Several hours later, Alec and Hermione were both settled in, their possessions strewn comfortably across the house. Instead of returning to the spare room, Hermione had cleaned up her parents' old, dusty one with industrial strength cleaning charms. Putting on her own sheets and pillows from her bag, Hermione was much more comfortable here than in the other room. Similarly, Alec had elected to move into the attic rather than Hermione's girly childhood room. There was a single bed up there, in case relatives came to stay back when Hermione was a child.

Ginny knocked on the door at half-twelve and asked the pair to lunch with her and James. Hungry, since Hermione's bag-fridge was basically empty, they readily agreed, and the quartet set forth to Diagon Alley.

* * *

The last time Hermione had been to Diagon Alley was in the summer after her sixth year at Hogwarts. The street was basically destroyed; shops were gutted and the thoroughfare was empty of people. Now, it was bright, restored and bustling, despite the wintry chill in the air.

Ginny mumbled something to Hermione about a new toy for James and a quick stop into the Quidditch shop. Alec begged to go with them and, before Hermione knew it, she was standing alone in the street, having been promised that they would meet her at Flourish and Blotts in twenty-five minutes.

Hermione grinned. _Twenty-five minutes_ of solo book shopping.

Her bliss lasted nineteen. Nineteen minutes after she entered the shop, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"Twice in two days, Granger, that's a rarity. And here I thought I wouldn't see you for another five years."

Malfoy's tone was more biting than it had been the day before and, when she turned around, Hermione could swear that his eyes were snarling at her.

"I could say the same to you, Malfoy. Although I didn't think it, I hoped that I wouldn't see you for another five years," Hermione snapped. Putting on a polite smile, as if unfazed by his presence, she added, "Did you enjoy the party?"

He hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to lie or tell the truth. When he smirked, Hermione knew he'd settled on lying. Draco had once told her the truth about his sneers and smirks. A sneer was when he felt powerless, overcompensating, pushing others down to make himself feel better. A smirk, however, was when he was unsure of himself, of how he felt, of what he was doing. A smirk said a lot about Draco. He had no idea how to act, so he tried to appear confident. The smirk twitched, "Very much. Although I was disappointed not to meet your significant other."

"I haven't got a significant other, as I believe I told you yesterday."

"No, you said you didn't have a husband."

"Well, I don't have one of either," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. _We're not engaged. You never asked me. _She wanted to scream at him. Something. But she said nothing else.

"Alec is a nice name," Draco smirked. "Short for Alexander?"

"Yes," she retorted. Absentmindedly running a hand over the books beside her, Hermione grimaced slightly, "I forgot to ask, how's your wife?"

He stepped back, stunned, "My wife?"

"Yes, your wife."

"I'm not married."

Hermione blinked several times, digesting the information. As they stared at each other uncomprehendingly, Ginny raced up with the two children and several bags in tow, apologising profusely.

"I know! I'm late!" She stopped and checked her watch, "Actually, I'm early. How did _that_ happen?"

Hermione looked to her friend helplessly.

"What's wrong? I'm not late," Ginny said, finally noticing Draco and nodding in greeting. "Did you enjoy yourself yesterday? I'm sorry you were stuck with the children for a while, but it looked like everyone was having fun. If only Astoria could have come with you, then you might have been able to talk more with the adults. I hope she can come to our next party. Alec just told me that his birthday is in a few weeks, and I'm sure Mum will want to throw a big party. Five years old!"

She grinned at Alec, who was looking up at Draco in awe. Clearly he'd enjoyed his first flying lesson. Hermione, however, looked stricken and pale. Malfoy wasn't looking at Alec or Ginny, but to the wavering woman in front of him. He reached out a hand, before realising what he was doing, and dropped it back to his side. Instead, he asked, "Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione nodded, grabbed Ginny's arm and left the shop along with the two children.

Draco Malfoy was left standing alone, and upset, for the second time in two days.

* * *

Ginny decided that they would forgo a public lunch and instead the group apparated to an alley near the closest muggle supermarket to the Granger home. An hour later, lunch eaten, Ginny and Hermione sat at the kitchen table as Alec and James played in the living room.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" Ginny asked, broaching the subject. Hermione hadn't said a word, scaring Ginny and Alec, until they'd reached the Granger home after shopping.

"I... don't exactly get along with Malfoy," Hermione said. "We came to be very good friends during the last months of the war and then some things happened, and we no longer get along very well."

Ginny nodded. They'd all grown closer to Draco at that time, having spent so much time together. However, Harry and Ron were still quite good friends with the man, as Hermione clearly was not. _If they were, in fact, __friends._

"Hermione, I'm only going to ask this once, and if you say no, or don't want to respond, that's fine, but... is Draco Alec's father?"

She jerked her head once, in assent, before burying her head in her hands.

"What... what happened between you?" Ginny demanded, serious but hesitant to hurt her friend.

"We dated. For almost a year," Hermione sniffled. She wasn't crying but she could feel the tears in her eyes, waiting to flow.

Her friend frowned. _A year?_ "No, I mean, why did it end?"

* * *

___Two Days After The Battle of Hogwarts_

_By 1 o'clock in the afternoon, Hermione had cleaned the house, re-read Pygmalion, alphabetised her books and started making a cake. She'd tried to keep herself busy, although she continually found herself looking out the window, hoping to see Draco materialise in front of her gate. But by 1, she'd finished her chores, finished her mindless tasks, and the orange and poppyseed cake was in the oven. She was actively waiting, sitting, not reading _A Detailed History of The Giant Rights Movement, _however much she wished she could._

_By 2 o'clock, the cake was cold enough to ice, and Hermione took her time doing it. She added some shavings of orange rind, and was pleased with the overall appearance. More often than not, her cakes stuck to the pan, or the icing dripped off, but this one was perfect. She couldn't wait to show Draco._

_He still hadn't arrived. Hermione had left a window open, as it was mild outside and if Draco sent her an owl, it wouldn't crash into something like Ron's always did. But half an hour later, nothing had arrived. There was no gorgeous man complimenting her cake-baking skills, kissing the icing off her nose. There was no Draco wrapping her in his arms and telling her that he loved her and it was all over with Astoria, even if it had been nothing, as he said it was._

_But by 3 o'clock, Hermione was distressed. What if something had happened to him? What if he'd been hexed, or injured, or imprisoned by the Greengrasses? No, they were manipulative, but they weren't stupid. He was fine. He was coming. Maybe he was delayed by something... his mother might have pressed him to take her for afternoon tea, or he may have run into Harry and Ron._

_As the clock ticked closer and closer to 5, however, Hermione was close to giving up hope. It wasn't as if she was the kind of woman to sit around and wait for a man anyway! But she loved him and, until the day before, had trusted him completely. He would come. He would._

_Surprisingly, the night passed in a blur for Hermione. She sat in an armchair for hours, almost in a trance, before dozing off. She was awoken the next morning by the arrival of the Daily Prophet._

_The front page read: 'Malfoy and Greengrass to Marry!' __Accompanying the article was a large, moving image of Draco-_her_ Draco-kissing Astoria passionately. Hermione, unbelieving, began to skim the short paragraph, penned not by the forever-incorrect Rita Skeeter, but by Padma Patil._

* * *

In a surprising move, Draco Malfoy, 17, and Astoria Greengrass, 16, last night announced their engagement. In the wake of the war, and the youngest Malfoy's position in the Order, the general wizarding population believed he would steer clear of an old pureblood family when choosing a wife. However, last night, at a large party thrown by Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, the pair shone with happiness. The loving looks and numerous kisses shared by the couple last night demonstrate one thing: this is clearly a love match. Congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy.

* * *

_Only then, looking again at the embracing couple on the front page of the paper, did Hermione give up hope that he would still come._


	5. Mistakes

Chapter 5:

Mistakes

* * *

_Three Days After The Battle Of Hogwarts_

_The house was dark when Draco apparated outside Hermione's gate. He'd done in numerous times in the past, but this time he was more than slightly tipsy, having had a few strong drinks at a pub. Draco had needed the drinks after he saw the paper that morning. It was true, it was all true, but he didn't need a reminder._

* * *

_When he'd arrived at Greengrass House the morning before, the house elf answering the door announced that no one was home. The hall where he stood, being informed of this fact, was bustling with house elves, cleaning. House elves roaming the house clearly indicated that no Greengrass was home. They were terrible to the elves. Draco spent a few hours travelling to and scouring their other nearby homes, but to no avail. It was in a fit of exasperation that he apparated to Malfoy Manor, where his mother was, coincidentally, having lunch with the family of his intended._

_Invited by his mother to take a seat and join them, he hadn't gotten a word in edgewise, try as he might. After drinking some of the tea offered by Astoria, however, his worries had drifted to the back of his mind. Draco had somehow found himself agreeing to a party, an announcement, a wedding. He was smiling at Astoria, his lovely fiancée, he was kissing her at the behest of his mother. But something felt wrong, felt off. There was a tiny part of him that didn't want to do these things... but why?_

* * *

_Awakening in the morning, Draco was aghast at his actions. What the fuck had been going through his mind. Why hadn't he shouted to everyone that he wasn't marrying Astoria, that he wanted to marry Hermione, that... Astoria had drugged him?_

_"A light acquiescence potion," she told him at breakfast in his mother's house. "You_ _seemed agitated." _

_The whole Greengrass family was now in residence, it appeared several minutes later, as Daphne arrived looking worse for wear. He almost asked where Hermione was, but he knew. He knew where she was. She was home. She wasn't there. He'd never fixed things, he'd never gone to tell her it was all okay._

_He'd ruined everything._

_He was a fucking idiot._

_If Hermione never forgave him, he would deserve it._

_The newspaper, added to this distress, did not create a pleasant situation in the Manor. Draco was fucking pissed. The Greengrasses, surprised by his animosity toward their daughter and the marriage union, sat agape. Astoria fumed. Narcissa frowned, concerned. And Daphne sat with her head in her hands, the noise of the room too loud for her hangover._

_So, after more than a few drinks, Draco arrived at the Granger house. But, unlike his usual visits, the gate wouldn't open. No spell, no physical exertion would open the gate._

_She'd locked him out._

_Out of her garden._

_Out of her house._

_Out of her heart._

* * *

_He returned two days later, a bouquet of white roses in his hand. This time, the gate was open, a more welcoming sign. Perhaps she'd forgiven him. No, that was unlikely. Why in Merlin's name would she forgive him? The blue curtain in the living room twitched as he walked up the short path. She was home, at least._

_The door swung open before he reached it. Hermione was standing there, more beautiful than ever. Her curly hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wore a red t-shirt and denim shorts._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_Draco grimaced, "I'm here to apologise. I meant to call it off, I meant to come and tell you, but I... I wasn't myself and I agreed to things I wouldn't have, under normal circumstances."_

_"You were drunk," Hermione stated, sighing._

_"No, I was drugged."_

_Her head shot up, a worried look plastered across her face, "Drugged?"_

_Draco nodded, "Acquiescence potion."_

_This was followed by a scoff._

_"That's barely drugging. It just makes you slightly more amenable to your less conscious thoughts. You were obviously considering marrying Astoria somewhere in your mind," she replied sadly._

_"I want to marry you!"_

_"I want to be happy, Draco. This..." Hermione gestured in the air between them, "...isn't working so well. It's not making either of us very happy. Maybe marrying each other in this_ mess _would worsen things. We'd be less happy, if that were even possible. It's not working, as you clearly showed me by your actions last night._"

_Draco wanted to deny it. But he could see the dark rings under her eyes, ones that he knew he also sported. Her colour was off, more grey than pink. "I love you. I want to try to fix things between us."_

_"You know I love you, but you're engaged to Astoria. We both know you must, at some point, have been seriously considering marrying her. If you love me, or if you love her, we should just forget this before things get worse and hearts are broken," she began to shut the door._

_"No!"_

_"Goodbye, Draco."_

_He stood on the step, his face blank, for several minutes, before falling to sit on it. She couldn't just shut the door. She couldn't just walk away from him. It was a small mistake, he wanted to fix things. It wasn't like he was cheating. _

_But he _was_. _

_He was cheating. He'd been cheating on his relationship with Hermione by forgetting about and keeping secret his engagement to Astoria, and he was cheating on Astoria, who he didn't particularly care about, by loving Hermione._

_It wasn't a small mistake. It was a big one._

_He'd majorly fucked up._

_But, Draco thought as he sat, left alone by the only woman he'd ever loved, he would do his best to prove that he was sincere in his apology, in his promises. __Whether it took a day, a week, a month or a year, he would show Hermione Granger that he loved her and that one day they would be together._

* * *

Present Day

By the next morning, Hermione was more calm about the situation. _So what if he was dating Astoria_, as Ginny had later informed her. _It had been years since her failed attempt at a relationship with Malfoy. So what if Astoria was the reason they had broken up._ _She was happy with her life now. She was over him. She had a beautiful child, whose parentage she chose to ignore most of the time, and she was happy with her life. _

_It was the surprise that had thrown her off_, she realised. The fact that the tightly woven lies about Alec's parentage were coming undone because she couldn't keep her mouth shut about a relationship she was totally over.

She'd seen him twice. They'd spoken. It had been years since she'd thought about Draco Malfoy. She was over him. She wasn't distraught over their relationship. But seeing and hearing about the little things, his new relationship with Astoria, his teaching Alec how to fly, his cold treatment of her. She'd needed time to acclimate to seeing him again, to hearing about his life.

Draco was now dating the reason they'd broken up and Hermione was actually fine with it, after she'd gotten used to the idea. She had no reason to worry about Draco Malfoy, except for the tiny issue that he was the secret father of her son and one day soon, Hermione knew _he was going to figure it out_.

* * *

Draco and Astoria were having lunch with Ginny, Harry, Ron and Pansy. James was at the Burrow with Molly, and the group were at a new restaurant just off Diagon Alley. Ginny glared baldly at Draco, Hermione's revelation about their past still extremely fresh in her mind. He was doing his best to ignore the redhead's anger, but it was difficult when she sat directly across from him at the table. Adding to this, Astoria was in the bathroom, and Harry was standing talking to Oliver Wood, who sat a few tables away with some friends. So Draco was forced to finally turn his gaze on Ginny.

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "What is it?"

"I think you know," she replied, darkly, still glaring.

"I really really don't."

"Oh, yes, you do."

"Hermione, I assume?"

"You assume correctly. She told me everything yesterday. _Everything._"

A flash of surprise crossed Draco's face, "She only _just_ told you?"

"And when would she have told me? During the war? In the _five and a half years_ she spent in Australia, hiding from you?"

"She wasn't, she wasn't hiding from me. She broke up with me. I tried to fix it, I tried to visit, but the gate blocked me out. So, I sent letter after letter for months. She never responded. Six months after Hermione ended it, the gate stopped rejecting me. Maybe the spell faded away, or the gate got accustomed to me, I don't know, but I went inside, and she was gone, everything was gone. Everything personal was gone."

Ginny, who had been periodically gasping throughout his story, looked directly into his eyes, her anger gone, "You _have _to tell Hermione. You have to tell her. No one else knows, except maybe her parents. _No one._ Tell her. I have a feeling she has some things to tell you, too."

"But-" He protested.

"Go to her."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Harry sank back into his seat next to Ginny, "Where'd Malfoy go?"

"Draco had some business to take care of. He said not to wait for him."

"And Astoria?"

"Who knows. While eating lunch, or delicately sipping her white wine, she probably mussed her make up and has spent the last fifteen minutes trying to fix it," she replied with a shrug. When Harry shot her a look, telling her that it was slightly mean of her to say that, she relented. "I'll check on her."

Astoria sat on the little sofa in the bathroom, examining her nails. She was a very attractive woman. Her long dark hair was naturally straight, a trait for which many women would kill, her skin was very light, and she had long legs. For Hermione's sake, Ginny hated the woman, although she still envied her body. The woman was horrible and, having heard Hermione's description of her actions five years previously, Ginny really just wanted to hex her.

"What's wrong?" She offered, instead.

Astoria looked up, a frown on her red-painted lips.

"I cheated on Draco last night," she said, matter-of-factly. "He's nothing like I thought he would be. He won't shag me. When we kiss, I can tell he doesn't love me. I've loved him for years... and nothing."

Ginny was surprised at the outburst from the usually polite, guarded woman, but replied in kind, "Five years ago, when you thought you loved him, you went about it the wrong way by drugging him, and he'll never trust you again because of that. He didn't want to marry you, and you practically forced a public engagement. I wasn't privy to either of your thoughts at the time, but I've read the papers. He called it off privately only a few days after it was announced, and publicly a few months later. He never loved you, and from the way you acted, I doubt you actually loved him. Astoria, you should break it off before things get worse, before he finds out from someone else."

"I know, I just... I thought if I hid, I could avoid the subject until we're in private," she said, sheepishly.

"He's gone. He left ten minutes ago. We've had our lunch, you can go home. Break it off with Draco," Ginny advised. "If neither of you are that into it, it'll just end badly anyway."

* * *

Hermione sat on the floor just inside the front door of her house. The night they arrived, she'd stumbled, before kicking the pile of letters aside. Now, she was opening them, one by one. She'd sorted them into piles. She could tell the writing of ones from her friends, and had read those first. They were just casual missives, _how are you_ and _we should catch up sometime._ But, in her sorting, there was a growing pile on her left. The writing was vaguely familiar, and Hermione knew she had seen it somewhere, but couldn't place it. Each was dated on the front, and she opened the first.

* * *

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I know you probably hate me with the fire of five thousand suns right now. I deserve it. I was so bloody stupid. I shouldn't have sit down, I shouldn't have drunk any tea (my ultimate downfall). I should have stood up, proclaimed my love for you and the end of the stupid engagement to Astoria, and left. But I didn't. I was an idiot. I was more stupid than Crabbe and Goyle, if that is indeed possible. But I did it, and I'm so very very sorry._

_I called it off officially yesterday. I went to Mr. Greengrass' home office and we had a chat. He has some disgusting views on muggleborns, let me tell you. Had I not already decided to marry you, I would have dumped Astoria just on that basis. But I told him I was in love with this brilliant, beautiful, talented witch, and I couldn't marry his daughter. He seemed relieved. Apparently not everyone wants an Order member in the family. _

_I do, though. I love you, Hermione, so much. The last time I saw you, I sank down onto your step and cried. Cried. I never cry, you know that. When my father was killed, I didn't cry. I didn't cry when we realised the war was over. I didn't cry, although I wanted to cry happy tears, when you told me you loved me for the first time. But I cried when you told me that it was over because I couldn't imagine my life without you anymore. I still can't imagine it._

_You're such a huge part of my life now, and I don't know how I can keep going without you in it. I love you, and I will keep writing until you respond._

_Love, __Draco_

* * *

There were at least eighty more letters, spanning the following six months. Hermione steeled herself and began reading, tears already in her eyes. Thank Merlin that Alec was at the Burrow, she wouldn't want to have traumatised him, because an hour later, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Hermione hadn't known. She hadn't known any of this. He'd been in the wrong but he loved her. He'd written to her every two to three days for _months_. And she hadn't known. She wanted to go back in time, find Draco and wrap her arms around him. The later letters were more heartbreaking than the first. He was slowly losing hope, but vowing never to lose it fully. The last one had been bulky, not only containing a letter, but a dead white rose.

Who knew what had caused him to stop the letters, though. Hermione froze. A dead white rose. She dashed up the stairs, and ran into the spare room. The dead white rose still sat on the dressing table. _That_ was what had happened. He'd finally found a way in. He had seen that she was gone. He'd trashed it, because his hope had run out. Hermione had left, and she hadn't said a word. She hadn't read his letters. There had been no hope left, so, in a fit of desolation, of anger, of heartbreak, he'd destroyed the only thing that he could think of that remained of their relationship. The room where they'd spent so much time together._  
_

_But he didn't know, _Hermione thought to herself, _he didn't know that he'd left with me another reminder of their relationship. He hadn't known that she carried his child. He hadn't known and he still didn't know. Merlin, there was a conversation she didn't want to have. So many conversations she didn't want to have with the man she needed to talk to. _

There was a knock at the door.


	6. Confrontation

**[A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed! I couldn't help myself, making last chapter a cliffhanger was too good to resist. Shoutout to Grovek56, who said: "Nothing like misunderstandings, talking at cross purposes & the odd drugging to make the heart grow fonder." Couldn't agree more. I was a bit stuck on where I wanted to go at this point in the story, but I asked a friend and she agreed with where I was leaning. From now on, there'll be a few less flashbacks, as the backstory is mostly developed by this point. Feel free to review with any comments, guesses about what's happening, or recommendations. Enjoy!]**

Chapter 6:

Confrontation

* * *

It was Draco at the door.

He stood, slightly dishevelled, on the doorstep. His hand was raised, as if to knock once again, and his eyes were wide; wild and emotive. A grin spread across his face, just at the sight of her.

"I need to tell you someth-"

The rest of his sentence was muffled by Hermione throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. It was a chaste kiss, but they could both feel the apology and acceptance, from both sides, in it. Draco was sorry for the situation to begin with, Hermione was sorry for abandoning him without finding out all the details. They were both in accordance, though, that Draco was in the wrong.

Hermione broke the kiss after a few seconds and smiled, "I read your letters."

"Y-you read them?"

"I only just found them. I should have guessed, when I saw the destroyed room, that you did truly love me, that it wasn't just a lie. But I didn't know what to believe anymore. You told me about the engagement to Astoria, which, I must admit, was better than if I had found out another way. And then you didn't come, and I waited, and waited, and then I saw the newspaper and I couldn't bear it anymore. I had no idea what was a lie and what was the truth, so I broke it off. I don't know what happened to your letters before I left, but I found them when I came back and I just read them, all of them, and I understand. I don't condone what you did," Hermione frowned, running a hand through her loose waves. "But I understand."

"I _am _sorry."

"I know you are. You aren't completely forgiven, because you were an idiot about it, but I am forgiving you to the degree that we can have a civilised conversation without me biting your head off. We ought to put the past in the past, so to speak," Hermione replied.

Proffering a hand, Draco asked, "Friends?"

"Friends," she smiled, shaking it.

* * *

"Why did you go back to her?"

"_What?_"

"Why did you go back to Astoria?"

They were sitting on the sofa, as far apart as possible, but facing each other. It was a three-seater, so the great distance between them was only several feet. Hermione sat with her legs pulled to her chest, chin resting on knees, while Draco had his feet propped up on the coffee table. After deciding to end all talk on their five-year-old misunderstanding, they'd been talking vaguely about their lives. But now Hermione had brought up the thing that she'd been wondering for hours.

"Most women I meet either work for me, with me, or are married. There are few women, you and Astoria included, who are single. Mother was pushing the match, again, knowing that I wasn't in a relationship. And, not under the influence of any potion," he looked at her ruefully, "I started dating her. It's only been a few months, but we both know it's not working. As far as I can tell, she fancies Blaise. Thank Merlin for that. I'm not the same person I was when we were children, thus not fulfilling her image of me, and she's not..."

"She's not what?"

"She's not you."

Hermione punched him in the shoulder.

"You were never this violent when we were together!"

"You were never this sappy!"

Draco laughed, grasping one of her hands in both of his, "Well, I never knew what it would be like without you. Dating, life, everyth-OW! You didn't have to punch me _again_!"

"Sap," she stated, trying to stifle her giggles.

He glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows, "It's getting late. Do you have plans for tea?"

"Merlin, what's the time?" Hermione jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

"Five past six."

"Shit!" She swore as she hopped back into the room and headed toward the fireplace, pulling on a shoe. "I have to pick up Alec. If you wait here, we can go eat a friendly dinner together, or something."

Hermione almost tripped over the coffee table as she made her way, hopping all the while, to the dirty fireplace. She shot a glare at Draco, who was laughing at her.

"The Burrow!"

"I'll see you in a bit," he choked out before collapsing back onto the sofa.

* * *

Hermione coughed on the billowing soot as she and Alec reappeared at their home. Alec dashed out first, but Hermione soon collided with him, as he stood stock still, looking at the man cooking in their kitchen. She coughed, and he span to face them. Draco wore her mother's old pink frilly apron and had a smudge of flour on his cheek.

For a second, Hermione considered how it might have been, had 'the Incident' never occurred. They would have been a happy little family. Draco could have taught Alec how to fly, they could have all gone to Quidditch matches together. Hermione could have taught him innocuous spells to use as pranks on his father. As a couple, they could have read Alec bedtime stories, before switching out the light and going to their own bedroom. They could have cooked together in a kitchen, ending up throwing the contents of the mixing bowl at each other instead of actually cooking it. They could have been a family.

She shook her head, clearing the thought, and instead looked down at her son, "Alec, you remember Draco, don't you?"

"Of course," Alec smirked and, for a second, Hermione could see the clear resemblance to his father. The eyes, the skin, the smirk. His love of flying, of anything magical. His occasional arrogance when confronted with other kids, his love of being babied (as much as Draco wouldn't admit it, she knew he loved it). She'd never compared them, not really, because by the time Alec had passed infancy, Hermione's memories of Draco weren't as full as they'd once been. But now, the two standing in the same room, the resemblance was clear as day.

"How're you?" Draco asked the boy, peering strangely down at him.

"I'm good! Uncle Harry was at the Burrow and he took me flying just before. And Mrs. Weasley said I could have a birthday party there if I'd like and I want to and Mum can I?"

"Of course you can," Hermione smiled weakly. If Draco knew Alec's birthday was coming up, he'd start counting back. He'd realise just when Alec was conceived. He'd realise just who the possible father was. He'd realise that he'd had a little boy for five years and he'd never been told. _Shit. __Shit. __Shit._"Why don't you go up to your room and unpack your books and spare clothes. By the time you're done, dinner might be ready."

Alec nodded and dashed up the stairs. By the time the thump of a door being crashed open was heard, Draco had turned to Hermione and was looking at her intently, "When's his birthday?"

"What?" She squeaked. _It was already happening.__  
_

His voice was hard, "When is Alec's birthday?"

"Next week. Tuesday."

Draco paused, calculating. Hermione sat down at the kitchen table.

"Eight months. A little over eight months after the war ended."

Hermione nodded helplessly, "A week past my due date."

"That means... did you know?"

"Know what?"

"When we broke up, did you know?"

"No, I didn't know. I realised a week later and did the spell to check and..."

Draco froze, "It... he is mine, isn't he?"

She sucked in a breath, "Yes, he is."

"I knew it," Draco whispered. His eyes met Hermione's, "I wondered, when I first saw him, when I first saw you... I wondered. But I thought it was a crazy idea. I thought it was ridiculous. I pushed away the idea, thinking you'd found someone else and had a kid. But he's _my_ child. Why didn't you tell me? Was I never going to be told?"

"I hadn't intended on it, but, after today, I was going to."

"I have a son. I have a _five-year-old _bloody son, who I have seen no more than three times in his entire life! _How could you think that I didn't deserve to know?_" Draco's voice was raised, and he paced back and forth across the kitchen.

"I was heartbroken and I thought we might be better off without you involved. It wasn't a fantastic decision, but I was 18! I was upset and I didn't want to have to face you all the time," she explained, one hand massaging her aching temple.

He nodded, curtly.

"Your reasoning, while plainly stupid, was understandable," he took a deep breath. "But I disagree completely, and am frankly disgusted. I want to spend time with Alec..._ Alexander._"

"That can be arranged."

"And you have to stay here this time, Granger. You can't just run away."

Hermione flinched at the use of her last name. He hadn't used it once since her return. He hadn't used it since before he joined the Order. It hurt. It really hurt. So what if she'd taken to calling him Malfoy in recent days, she'd returned to 'Draco' in the past few hours. But here he was, throwing the name 'Granger' right in her face.

"I'm done running."

"Good. I'll drop by tomorrow morning. We can spend time together here, if you would rather."

"That's fine. Goodbye Draco," Hermione sighed.

"'Bye Granger," he snapped.

Draco disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

**[A/N: And just when we thought things were going well...]**


	7. Suspicions and Snooping

**[A/N: Somehow, I wrote the previous five chapters in five days. This chapter, however, was not so willing to be written. I found it rather difficult, so it took a while and I'm sorry for that. More updates soon, possibly less frequently but with more words. Christmas is coming and I actually have occasional plans (I'm surprised at myself). On Monday, I'm going to look at a tiny studio apartment for myself for uni next year and I'm constantly thinking about writing an actual novel (which I tend to never actually write). However, back onto fic news: I'm thinking this fic will have 12-ish chapters total. I want to thank everyone for the fantastic response... this is now my most followed and most reviewed fic!]**

* * *

Chapter 7:

Suspicions and Snooping

* * *

After leaving Hermione's house, Draco did something unexpected. Unexpected to anyone who knew him, unexpected, even, to himself. He apparated to the home of Harry Potter.

While Draco and Harry were decent-enough friends, they were by no means best friends, or at the stage where they would share secrets with one another. However, just minutes after hearing the truth from his ex-girlfriend, Draco Malfoy knocked on the door of the Potter home, preparing himself to discuss the topic of his newly-found son.

_Alec._

He should have known. As soon as he'd heard the name, he should have guessed, he should have assumed. Why would she name him Alexander - the name he'd suggested for their son - if the boy weren't his? But now he knew... and, although he was still furious with Hermione for hiding the truth for _five bloody years_, he mostly wanted to leave the past in the past. If he began thinking about the missed birthdays and milestones and Sundays they could have spent together, Draco might just have burst. However, thankfully, the door swung open in response to his earlier knock, and he stood face-to-face with Ginny, an expectant look on her face.

"Well?" She asked, hope in her eyes.

He glowered, "Did you know?"

"Did I know what?"

"That I have a son," Draco spat, rudely brushing past her and moving into the living room.

Ginny said nothing and he could tell that she knew.

"How long?"

"Yesterday."

Hermione had only told her_ yesterday?_ His anger lessened slightly. At least not everyone had known before him.

He frowned, "Have you told anyone?"

"Not even Harry. Although James got a mouthful of my feelings when we were on our own. I doubt he'll gossip about it."

Draco's lips twitched, "Is Potter here?"

"In the garden. Go on out, he's playing with James."

"Thanks, Ginny."

Draco walked toward the back door, conveniently placed on the other side of the living room. As he twisted the door handle, Ginny spoke again.

"Did you tell her?"

"Yeah," he sighed, turning back. Strangely enough, Draco was feeling less and less angry. He was hurt, definitely, but he was more regretful of the fact that he hadn't known. It was terrible for Hermione to have hid it, but he couldn't hate her for hating him. "We worked things out pretty well, agreed to be friends and everything. But then I finally let myself realise the truth about Alec, and things went downhill from there..."

"Don't worry, everything will work itself out eventually," Ginny smiled.

* * *

Although he had not actually been informed by Ginny, Harry already knew. His continual suspicions of Snape and Malfoy at school had evoked a good sense of perceptiveness in him, and he was not surprised by Draco's mumbled revelation about the paternity of Hermione's child.

"I know," he said simply, playing all the while with his own son. James was putting differently shaped blocks into their appropriately shaped containers.

Draco spluttered, "How?"

"He has your eyes. He smirks like you did when we were eleven. He's bloody annoying when it comes to flying and Quidditch. And he's Hermione's son. Who else could have been the father?"

No closer to full sentences, Draco blurted, "What?!"

"I knew you were together years ago. Not only did I notice the not-so-inconspicuous glances that quite clearly told everyone you were shagging, I also heard you two once. You were walking down the hall together at Grimmauld Place and talking about your future children," Harry smirked. As much as he was friends with Malfoy, it was still nice to best him every once in a while.

His friend was silent for several moments, introspective, before smirking himself, "Looking intently at me, were you, Potter? I didn't know you felt that way about me."

Harry chuckled, "You go ahead believing that."

"What do you think I should do?"

"About 'Mione and Alec? Be a friend, a boyfriend, a husband, something to Hermione. It's your choice, but don't be too tough on her. She was young and she was hurt. Most importantly, continue being a father to Alec," Harry held up a hand when Draco opened his mouth, "Even if you didn't know about him, even if you hadn't met him yet, you've been a father for five years, mate. You might protest, you were clearly being a father when you helped your son fly at the Burrow the other day."

"Yeah."

"You're going to be a great dad, Malfoy," he smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder.

Draco _was_ scared about being a father. Most people had months to prepare themselves to the idea. He'd wanted kids at some point, some point soon, probably, but he hadn't expected to find out five years after the fact. He wasn't prepared for immediate fatherhood. But, as Potter had said, he could be a great dad. He _would be _a great dad.

* * *

It was the day of the playdate, as she decided to call it, and Hermione was panicking.

She wasn't worried about Draco being the father to her son (she had worried about that more than enough when she found out she was pregnant), she wasn't worried about Alec loving the father he never had, she wasn't worried (well she was slighly anxious) about how people would react, Hermione Granger was worried about how this would affect her relationship with Draco.

She'd hated him for so long. Not even hated. She'd hardened her heart against him and, although there were distinct fissures in the brick wall that stood between her rationality and her feelings for the man, had effectively decided to leave the past in the past. After the events of the previous several days, Hermione knew she was still upset over what had happened between them. However, their misunderstanding concerning the events back then had been, for the most part, resolved. Now, she was worried that old feelings would resurface as she saw her son warming up to his father. That the time she spent around him would weaken the wall she'd built even more.

Most of all, Hermione Granger was worried that he would never forgive her.

* * *

Draco's plans to take Alec flying, albeit not at the Granger home, as he had promised, were thwarted by the weather. It was surprising, as the winter had been relatively mild, even allowing for the party the week before to be situated outside. However, not only was the ground covered in snow, the air chilly (something Draco did not want to subject his son to the first time they spent time together) and the wind unforgiving, but there was also sleet. Sleet was, in his opinion, worse than snow. It was pelting and horrid. Rain was alright sometimes, and snow could look pretty, but sleet was not a nice thing.

He stood outside Hermione's door for the second time in two days, both excited for what was to come, but utterly terrified.

As Harry had said the day before... he could do this. He could be a dad to Alec.

Yes.

Draco knocked on the door. Several seconds later, as if she had been standing mere feet away anticipating his arrival, Hermione opened it, revealing both herself and the young boy standing half-behind her, peeking around her hip.

"Hi," Alec said, grinning.

Draco couldn't help from grinning himself, "Hello."

Opening the door further, Hermione stepped to the side, "Come in."

She looked frazzled, Draco noticed, but better than she had the day before. She looked healthier, better rested, although more anxious.

"Have you told him?" He whispered as Alec ran into the living room.

"I didn't have to. Last night, as I was putting him to bed, he told me he heard some of what he said. Apparently snooping is an inherited trait... I remember you trying to uncover Dumbledore's Army..." Hermione shook her head with a chuckle, "Anyway, Alec asked if you were his father. I asked him if he would like that, and he said, and I quote, "Yes, please, Mummy. He's who I always wanted my daddy to be." So I told him that it was true, that you were, and he's been excited ever since."

Throughout her speech, she'd been looking at her shoes, at a painting on the wall, at the umbrella in the hall stand, but when Hermione finally lifted her eyes to Draco's face, she was touched to see that there were tears glistening in his eyes and a wide smile twisting his mouth. After a few moments, he cleared his throat and shifted, as if to move into the other room.

Hermione held up a hand to halt him.

"Draco, I know you probably hate me for what I did," Hermione began hesitantly. At her neck, a tiny curl escaped the loose bun she'd pulled it into. "But I think we should be friendly in front of Alec. I'm not going to say anything about our not getting along, despite what he may have already picked up, because I want you two to have a fantastic relationship, as you deserve. I don't have the right to ask this of you, but, even if you hate me, could you pleas-"

"I would never," Draco looked affronted, but eventually his features softened so much that Hermione could almost see the man she fell in love with. Finally, he added, "Don't worry, Granger, I could never hate you."


End file.
